


two truths and a lie

by orphan_account



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Analysis, F/M, Gossip, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not sure about marriage. I'm not sure about any of these things real people do."</p>
            </blockquote>





	two truths and a lie

**_ ‘Stark-Potts Wedding: NEW PICTURE! NEW COLUMN! Newlyweds Leave The Plaza Holding Hands’ _ **

**__ **

**_ By Renée Kratz, Columnist and Photographer, The NYC Chatter _ **

__

~~~

 

My darling readers,

 

I know exactly what you’re thinking. “It’s about frickin’ time, right?”

 

Yes, it is about time. All of us have waited anxiously, wringing our hands, waiting to see those famous headlines – Pepper Potts? With a giant sparkling rock on her finger? _Engaged?_ Could it possibly be that our Iron Man had finally proposed to his Iron Maiden? It was too good to be true!

 

And yet it was no lie. Since then, our dedicated staff here at the _Chatter_ have spared no expense to make sure you get every single scoop on this Wedding to End All Weddings. You’ve followed my articles from day one. I was there, peeking around The Brooklyn Bakery, when Ms. Potts tried her first samples of red velvet. I witnessed with my own eyes the initial designs for her _gorgeous_ Vera Wang wedding gown. I was even kicked out of Stark Tower, but alas! Anything for my readers!

 

And now, my dear _Chatter_ lings, I present to you the first of an unfinished scrapbook: an exclusive image from the Stark-Potts wedding at The Plaza on Fifth!

 

[INSERT IMAGE: STARK-POTTS WEDDING 1/???]

 

Wow. _Wow._ Am I right?

 

I think I did some excellent camera-work, if I may toot my own horn. Look at the way the light captures Pepper’s amber hair, pulled up into a fabulous up-do (designed by a certain Natalie Rushman, or so I hear. I’ll have to look her up!). Notice the bouquet of white roses and lilacs. I’ve never seen such a bouquet! You can practically smell that rich aroma, ahh. Lilac and rose, bubbly champagne and Stark’s Gendarme cologne. Can’t you just taste it, _Chatter_ lings?

 

But, no, no, look – we can see Tony’s hand at Pepper’s waist. His other hand – the one with the ring!!! – is clasped in hers. You can practically see the love in his eyes. His forehead may as well be painted with the words “fool in love!” Am I right? I’m so right.

 

Oh, here they are. It’s almost too much to take in. Mr. and Mrs. Tony Stark, standing under a white arch of silk and tulle, surrounded by gleaming glass candelabras. Never one to skimp on technology, Stark even installed television screens so audience members in the back rows could see all the action! It’s like the Oscars and _The Notebook_ and _The Great Gatbsy_ , all rolled up into one delectable package!

 

But – oh. Oh, no. Is that disappointment in Pepper’s gaze? Her lips – decorated in  Revlon’s British Red – seem to be puckered into a frown. Could she possibly be unhappy with her new groom? Has he roped in another young woman? Is NYC’s most famous playboy back to his old antics? Oh, say it isn’t so!

 

We’ll just have to see.

 

 _Chatter_ lings, I hope you enjoy this image as much as I did. I promise another one will be up by 8 a.m Eastern tomorrow morning!

 

Sincerely,

Renée

 

* * *

 

**_ From the Desk of Virginia “Pepper” Potts: _ **

**_ February 14th, 2017 _ **

**_ Entry No. 5 _ **

 

Dear Journal,

 

I want you to know something: I’m not one for diary entries. I haven’t kept a diary since I was a girl, and I don’t plan on starting again. But I feel the image I‘ve pasted below warrants an explanation.

 

So here I am, writing to no one in particular. Maybe to myself.

 

As you can see, I’m married. I’ve been in various managerial positions at Stark Industries for the past eight years, and for five of those years I’ve been involved with Tony Stark. Whoever is reading this, I’m sure you know exactly who that is. If you don’t, well, welcome to modern society.

 

I was there when he returned from Afghanistan. I was there through all of his controversial business decisions. I was promoted to CEO of Stark Industries shortly after Tony became “unable” to handle the affairs himself. And no, despite the rumors the _Chatter_ loves to encourage, I wasn’t sleeping with him at the time. I’m not who the press thinks I am. Crazy, isn’t it?

 

A year and a half ago, shortly after a legal battle where Stark Industries lost $10 million to Apple, Tony proposed to me. Out of nowhere. As is usual with him.

 

If I’m honest, I don’t remember how I reacted.

 

I think I yelled. Maybe I cried. I probably just stared at him, trying to get him to understand the gravity of what he was asking. He doesn’t do that; he doesn’t analyze the weight of things. I was half-dead with stress and sleeplessness; I think I might have considered breaking up with him. I was tired of waiting for him to come home every night, sometimes tipsy and sometimes anxious, sometimes wounded, sometimes full of such energy that he was dizzying to be around.

 

You have to understand – Tony doesn’t have a normal mind. Sure, he’s a genius, but he’s also a narcissist. He can’t comprehend the emotions of others. His own thoughts keep him so occupied that he doesn’t think of doing the laundry, or being quiet when the rest of the house is asleep. He is 100% entangled in his own dreams.

 

Yet he loves people all the same. He cares about them, loves the world like it’s his. His capacity to love, I’m convinced, may be greater than my own. It doesn’t make sense, does it? Yeah, I know.

 

I know.

 

What I also know is this: I said yes. He looked at me, and I said yes. I don’t know why I did, because surely any idiot girl knows better than to marry a narcissist. Men.

 

But hey. I looked at him, and I loved him, so I said yes.

 

My papa would call me a “foolish girl.” Maybe he’s right.

 

Nevertheless, I want to explain this image.

 

Below, you will find Tony and I. Mmm-hmm. He’s handsome as always, and I’ll admit that may be a weakness of mine. His charm is … appealing.

 

He’s standing beside me under the arch we spent a week arguing over. He wanted it to be a fountain, for Christ’s sake. He wanted a skyscraper fountain trickling around us like a watery halo. When I refused this exorbitantly expensive request, he launched into his usual “you’re no fun” rant. Because he’s a child. And apparently I’m a grandmother. It’s not _fun_.

 

He then made me dinner and we compromised with a night of dancing to Van Halen in the basement, while J.A.R.V.I.S took over the company for a few hours.

 

In the picture, you’ll see my hair in dangerously elaborate curls. Done by Natasha, who of course goes by Natalie in places where the press might be around. She was quiet for most of the hairstyling session, silently curling and ironing and twisting and pinning. Then she smiled (which is always a surprise) and told me I was going to be a gorgeous bride. She hugged me. I’m not used to intimacy from Natasha. I’m not sure she approves of my marriage.

 

I love her though. Like my dearest friend. I wonder if she knows that.

 

In the picture, Tony has his hand on my waist. He is surprisingly gentle. His diamond ring is on my finger, and the lighting in the photo gives it a silver sheen. The audience is cheering and applauding for us (we’ve just exchanged a kiss). I can hear them roar even now. The candles flicker behind us, just as the bouquet in my fingertips trembles.

 

I am frowning in this photo. The _Chatter_ would have you believe I’m angry with my unfaithful husband, but that’s a lie. Tony’s an ass, but he hasn’t touched anyone but me in ages. Trust me – I would know about it.

 

No, I’m frowning because my father’s in the crowd. And he’s looking at me with such disapproval that I can’t keep it off my mind. It’s been burned into my vision and I don’t know what the hell to do with it. What do you do with a decision you can’t take back? Am I as stupid as the press thinks I am? Have I married the world’s biggest jerk, so he can take me out with the trash? All my life, I’ve worked to prove myself worthy of the business world. Have I endangered everything I’ve worked for?

 

In this photo, Tony is looking at me. I know that gaze, because he’s only used it twice in his entire life. The first time? It was right after he tested the invention that made him famous. And the second?

 

It was after the first time he kissed me.

 

I know the life I have chosen is … ridiculous. No one sane would want it. I’m a public figure, yeah, perhaps more public than most A-list celebrities. I am a figure in politics and charity and business and industry. I am at the forefront of new medicine and technology. I am married to one of the richest men in the entire world. I have donated enough money to feed entire nations. That frown on my face? It is the only sliver of doubt I have shown thus far.

 

And now? I have decided it is the _only_ sliver of doubt I will _ever_ show.

 

So, thanks, Papa. But I’ve made my decision. The _Chatter_ can scream and holler about Tony’s past. I’ve always been more interested in the future.

 

In this photo, Tony and I are married. And so we will remain.

 

Thanks a billion,

Pepper

 

* * *

 

 

**_ Database Records: Signing in … Confirmed.  _ **

**_. _ **

**_. _ **

**_ Romanoff, Natasha. _ **

 

.

.

**.processing... **

.

.

** Welcome, Black Widow. **

.

.

 

I found a new photo in the database today. Yeah, I’m in the photo, although I’m cited under the name “Natalie Rushman.” The last thing I need is the _Chatter_ finding out my real name; they’d be knocking on my door within the hour. And besides – aliases are _fun_.

 

This new photo is … interesting. Tony looks like a golden retriever who’s caught his first tennis ball, but that doesn’t surprise me. What _does_ surprise me is the look on Pepper’s face. Her composed façade of philanthropist/CEO/socialite has fallen away.

I didn’t expect her to crumble that easily.

 

Hm. Marriage. It’s an enigma.

 

I’ve been married and divorced and in love and everywhere in between, I think. But I’m not sure I understand marriage. I’m not sure I believe Tony loves Pepper. I’m not sure I believe Pepper loves Tony. I’m not sure I believe two people should tie themselves to one another for eternity. I’m not sure about any of these things normal people do.

 

But I _am_ sure of one thing: Pepper shouldn’t be making a face like that. It isn’t safe. The press will tear her apart, _da_ , but I don’t care about the press. I care about the rest of the world, using her fragile marriage against her.

 

Love can be a weapon.  It is deadlier than a gun and far easier to wield.

 

The photo captures the wedding well. Tony and Pepper look stunning. There I am in the back, a little ways behind Pepper, my hair tied into the same braided up-do. My face is blurred in the picture; that’s good. I want the focus to be on Pepper. I don’t want her to notice me. I want her to look at this image and see the roses and the lilacs, the little bows tied on wooden chairs, the silk wedding arch, the violins and the waxy candles.

 

I want this image to be remembered for the rest of her life, so that she has something to hold onto.

 

A person needs one or two things to hold onto. Memories fail. Sometimes … well, sometimes memories aren’t even real. So one or two small trinkets, whether they be tangible or invisible, are important to survival. Pepper will always have this image.

 

Pepper will always have this moment in time, when Tony looked at her as if she were something holy.

 

Love is a dangerous thing. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust that this marriage will go well. I don’t trust that married people will always be the same people. Humans are fickle, fickle, fickle. We kiss and we kill like they are one and the same.

 

And yet. Database, can I tell you a secret? Something is happening, right now in this room. Clint Barton – you may know him as Hawkeye – is sitting at the end of my bed. I stayed with him last night. I stayed with him the night before last. I stayed with him a week ago.

 

What I’m saying is: I’m a hypocrite. And maybe I couldn’t recognize love if it slapped me in the face.

 

So I wish Tony and Pepper the best. I really do. I can say that now. I can say that with assurance, and I am happy.

 

Because, for once in my life?

 

I’m not lying.

 

Imagine that.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure what this is. I knew I wanted to explore different POVs, and while I'm afraid I've made Pepper and Natasha's POVs too similar, this was still a fun exercise. I love the idea of the press getting involved with Pepper and Tony's relationship - they would be the high-tech "Kimye" or "William and Kate" of the Avengers.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts in the comments!


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